The Eye of the Needle
by trickygrin
Summary: A lone wanderer sits in a cafe, with nothing but his thoughts and a cup of lukewarm coffee to comfort him. (woooo.... dramatic....) AU, non-canon pairing (eventually)
1. Bitter Coffee

**Story:** The Eye of the Needle

**Author:** trickygrin

**Disclaimer:** I haven't slept in days. I own me, myself and I. Nada else. I need a break from physics. Don't sue me.

**Note:** This story takes place after the anime has ended.

The man sat near the window, staring out the sand-blasted glass rattling in its pane, watching the people outside. He didn't know who they were, or what they were about, but he was sorry for them. Forced to grovel at the feet of the jealous geoplant owners, they were the victims of the system that his partner had always spouted on about.

A sip of his coffee worked its way towards soothing his tattered nerves, winding it's way around his nervous system, down his spine to his legs. Another sip and he could almost forgive the damned greedy landowners their numerous indiscretions. These days it seemed that coffee was the only thing that got his sympathy rising. Now _that_ was a crime. It wasn't even that good of coffee.

"Did you want another cup of coffee?" a friendly voice off to his right started him from his reverie. He looked up to see a pair of deep grey eyes, liquid graphite that reflected his soul back at him. Flinching involuntarily, he tried his best at nonchalance, and shrugged.

"Is there any decaf?" He really should be laying off the caffeine altogether. He knew that the excess of any kind was bad for you, but it seemed that caffeine was the only thing that got him up some days. It was a good thing he'd never started smoking. Wolfwood had, and look where that had gotten him. An early grave, that's what.

"Sure thing," the waitress who looked nothing like Meryl after all, turned around and headed back to the coffee machines behind the counter. "It's a free refill, mister." Returning once more to the dingy little table, she slapped down a new cup and saucer, sloshing a little coffee off to either side. "Want some cream?" Magically, three cream containers appeared in her hand. "They're free too."

"No, that's okay. Black is fine."

"Okay," she nodded, stowing the cream containers back in her apron with her pad and pencil. Scooping up his dirty cup, she paused for a minute before frowning at him. "Just yell if you need anything else." She swayed back to the counter, calling out to the stranger who opened the door to the tiny café. However, every now and then he caught her looking at him strangely from the corner of her eye. It wasn't that surprising. He must look like death itself.

Vash sighed. It always came back to that, didn't it? Death seemed to be the way the world worked now—had always worked. Why should he be surprised that he was the last to pick up on it? He was always the last one to pick up on anything anymore, it seemed.

Outside, the wind had picked up and seemed to be trying to blow the people over. Children were darting in between the buildings, using the gusts that flew through the alleyways to propel themselves forward, giggling like maniacs. He almost smiled at that, watching them run and play in the dust, falling and laughing and falling again… but somehow, whenever he tried to smile anymore, something wouldn't let him. 

Something seemed to have settled over his features. Eyes that were one bright had faded to a dim green, almost hazel. Hair that had once had seemed to have a mind of its own had settled over his features in soft tangles that he rarely seemed to even brush anymore. And his smile? The one that had charmed the children and made the ladies blush despite their protests? The smile had died. It had gone away one Spring day, and just never come back. He hadn't known the day it had gone missing, and when he had discovered it was gone, it was too late to recover. _She_ had it. She had it, and he had no chance of getting it back.

But that was unfair. When did he become so bitter? Was it the day he lost his taste for sweets? The day that he realized that she would never look at him that way again? The day he realized he had squandered his once and forever? He might have saved his soul, if indeed he had one, but he had damned himself to a life of eternal loneliness.

Which is what he had been afraid of all along, to be perfectly honest. When he'd left his gun behind after the stand off with his brother, he had been hoping for an end to all of this. Yet here he was, five years later, still wandering the roads, still fighting for money and the like…. And yet, something was different than it had been before. He no longer wanted to stay in one place and live among the humans. Oh, he wanted to, that wasn't completely accurate, but only if it was her. Meryl. Only her. But he couldn't.

And he…. HE was back there with her…. Living life—as a human. Living life—loved by someone. Living life—with her by his side. Living and loving and kissing and—

He was going to drive himself nuts if he kept this up. Glancing down at his now-cold coffee, he noticed that his knuckles were white against the pale ceramic of the mug. But maybe he already was insane. Maybe.

He certainly hoped Knives was pleased. He had everything that Vash had ever wanted, and Vash had even given it to him. Freely. _…naively…. …stupidly…_

Not that Knives would ever know. Not now, anyway. Because wasn't that the whole point? That Knives would never know Vash existed, and neither would Meryl. Vash only complicated things. Things that should be simple, things like love and family. _…and love and love and love…._

Something hot hit the hand holding the mug, and he touched it reflexively with his spare hand, checking to see if the coffee had burned. But the coffee was cold, and he realized that for the third time that week he was sobbing like a baby in a public area. He was so weak, so bitter. So full of anger that he could not rightly direct at anyone besides himself. _…so stupid…_

'They had better be happy,' he thought as he sunk further into himself. For his sake, they had better be happy together.

**Next chapter:** Vash meets up with a blast from his past. Heh, blast alright.

**Author's note:** Doesn't make sense? Well, the basic deal is that this was written on no sleep and with my poor fragile psyche recovering from an Electromagnetic Theory final and an Egyptian Art and Culture. But that's not to say that there's no plot. I hope to do a chapter a night until I leave town, so expect regular updates. It's gonna possibly be a VxM (but which one? Wooooo…..) tale. But I like Knives, so expect to see him later on too. It might be kinda dark and vaguely angsty, and it is kinda AU, so DON'T BITCH AT ME IF YOU DON'T LIKE THESE THINGS!!!!! I am sick of puds reading stuff and flaming me with stuff like: 'God you suck… why do you write this stuff?' 


	2. Blue on Green Mean Hello

Story: The Eye of the Needle 

**Chapter 2:** Blue on Green means Hello

**Author:** trickygrin

*****

Disclaimer: Hey, don't ask me. I'm not doing nothing.

*****

Several days later, the minor sandstorm had still not let up. Drifts of sand were building up alongside the buildings, and the children who had only days before been playing at flying were now having a taking turns sliding down the sandbanks, only to quit after awhile and go inside to get drinks. They seemed to be nothing more than dirty ghosts at times, wrapped up as they were in cloaks and coats to keep the sand at bay, gray ghosts with occasional flashes of bright eyes and white teeth.

Vash sat at the same window he had for the past three days. Instead of coffee this time though, he was celebrating a bit this time. Upon entering the café that day, he had decided that today would not be another of those mindless days, the ones that piled upon each other, blending together in an endless haze of places he'd rather not be and thoughts he'd rather not have. Today, he would celebrate, if nothing else, the simple fact that despite all odds, he was still here, on this planet. That although he had given up, he was not so far gone as to ignore all of the things he had been taught, and go commit suicide.

Not that he hadn't considered it.

Not that he hadn't tried.

He winced at the memory. She had come in on him, asking him a favor—something simple. Could he go to the grocery store and pick up some milk? Could he--? And then she had stopped and seen him… seen what he was doing.

_"Vash…."her voice trailed off. And all he could see were her eyes. Those clear, clear eyes. Staring at him. Accusing him. Hurting him. But he'd been hurt enough, and this time he ran._

Ran to where he was today. Sitting in a dirty corner in the same damn café he'd been in for the past week, waiting for the damned storm to let up enough for him to continue on the roads without fear of getting lost. Just sitting here made him restless, and although his face was no longer plastered on every wanted poster on this planet, the simple fact that he was so visible in a small town like this one made him feel vulnerable. This was another feeling that he had begun to hate in recent times.

Dwelling in the past solved nothing, and yet sometimes he couldn't help it. In the course of his thoughts he had even forgotten about his minor cause for celebration. His one moment of glory in a rapidly decaying world.

Taking a swallow of the celebratory beer he had bought himself, he savored it for a few moments, allowing the taste to clear his mouth of dust. 

So maybe celebration wasn't really the right word, but in a world where he was forced to take what pride he may, he was going to count this one and ignore the fact that it was, at the heart of it, the root of all of his problems.

It had been three years to the day since he had ran from Meryl's eyes, and he hadn't run back. He wasn't there to muck up their lives, and although he was a mess, both physically and mentally, he was still alive. There were some things to be proud about. But the thing that made this anniversary a celebration was the fact that he was following Rem's last wishes. Following her wishes to the degree that he himself had never believed possible, but following them nonetheless.

Frowning slightly, he motioned the waitress over to him. "Could I have another beer?" She nodded, the overly friendly exterior gone after days of dealing with this unfriendly character. Vash was beginning to think he scared her a little. This ordinarily would have bothered him, but today it didn't, for the simple fact that he didn't want to talk.

God… why was he so dark, all of a sudden? Sure his life sometimes was horrible, dirty, and lacking in good conversation and people, but hadn't it been that way before? Before he met any of them? Hadn't he survived then? Hell, he was fine, or as fine as he got these days, just a week ago, when he walked into this town looking for a shower and a shave. Why couldn't he seem to get himself out of this hole?

It had to be the fact that he wasn't moving. Moving kept him from dwelling, both physically and metaphorically. It gave him something to do with his time, and made him feel as if his time here was not simply wasted. Being cooped up in this no-name town was driving him crazy, if simply for the fact that there was nothing to do, but redo what was done yesterday. He had already cleaned his gun three times in the past 36 hours, and it looked like he was going to end up polishing its holster tonight. What a life. He couldn't wait for this storm to end.

Taking his old bottle from him, the waitress wiped down the table and placed another fresh brew on the damp wood, patting him absently on the shoulder as he gave her his money.

Swishing the bottle experimentally, he removed his eyes from the sand drifts the children had left behind, abandoning their playground for his bottle. It gleamed at him, warm and brown. It was a hell of a lot more inviting than the weather outside, at any rate. As if to mock him, the wind threw itself at the glass once more, causing him to lift his eyes to the outside. Something moved.

For a bit he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but a moment later he was startled to see that someone was making their way through the wind towards the café. Wrapped in layer upon layer of clothing, he couldn't distinguish anything about them beyond their mere existence, but all the same his stomach clenched nervously.

Something about them seemed uncannily familiar…

He took a swig of his new beer, forgetting its nature as the act of celebration and simply using it to quiet his rattled nerves. Why was he so nervous? What was his body sensing about this person or their mission that it wasn't telling him?

As if to answer his questions, the door swung open, catching in the wind and smashing against the wall outside. He jumped involuntarily, spilling liquor over his pants. Cursing, he scooped up a few napkins and dabbed at his pants gingerly. He didn't care so much about stains, but he didn't really want to smell like stale alcohol for the next couple of days.

Thus dabbing at his pants, he missed the stranger's entrance. Perhaps he was still too nervous, for some reason. Perhaps, the same something that had warned him that something was coming was warning him to ignore this change of environment for as long as possible. Or perhaps, he knew that something about the fact that he felt he knew them, combined with the sense of determination he had gotten from their braving the storm outside, scared him. Something in his life was about to change, and the last time something major had changed, he had run away to the only life he had ever known. Stranded here, to where could he run?

But the ostrich approach solved nothing. _…calm yourself…. _ He had to pull his head out of the proverbial sand now. 

Looking up from the mess on his pants, he saw the stranger at the counter asking the waitress for a drink. "What would you like?" the waitress was smiling warmly at the stranger, like she had been the day that Vash walked into this restaurant. Worriedly, he glanced back at the stranger.

"Cey—" their voice was muffled almost beyond understanding, and he watched them stop and sigh as they realized this. Lowering the duffel they were carrying, they began unwinding the length of cloth that was wrapped around their head and shoulders, revealing a mess of long brown hair that tumbled around them. "Um… actually, just a beer please," a light voice that seemed to tinkle on the verge of laughter asked.

…Uh oh… this was worse than expected. He not only knew that voice, but he knew that he could not dodge the change it represented. Whatever it was that she brought… it had been here to stay since she entered the room. Sinking into his chair, he wondered numbly why she was looking for him, as surely she had to be, to be this far into the boonies in this weather.

Almost on cue, she turned around, her eyes searching the room for something—or in this case, someone. She almost missed him, in the dark corner as he was, his clothes and hair as vastly different from what they had been when she had last seen him, as they were.

Skipping back to him, she met his eyes for the first time since she had last seen him, four years ago. Her sky-blue eyes, which had always seemed so innocent and playful before had matured and strengthened to the point that they appeared almost hawk-like in the gloom.

"Your beer," the waitress handed a beer to her, and she took it absently, as if the drink itself were no longer important, now that she had found Vash the Stampede. Maybe that was it. It seemed likely. Why was she looking at him like that? Almost accusing him of something… But what could he have done to her? In vain, he searched his memory for something, anything. Nothing directly affected her, but…

And then she smiled at him.

And wonder of wonders, he found himself captivated by that smile that the Preacher himself had fallen head over heels for, and he smiled back at her warmly, muscles cracking in a wonderful discomfort over the sudden strain after many, many months of disuse.

"Hey, Big Girl!" He beckoned her over to his table, and she, still smiling took the seat opposite him. "It's been a long time!"

"Yeah," Millie Thompson grinned at him, a bit of the old innocence returning to her features, "Yeah it has, 'Mr. Vash.'"

"It's just Vash, we're friends, remember?"

"And it's just Millie for me now."

*****

Much later, after some much needed reminiscing on both of their parts, and after both of them had consumed more than their fair share of alcohol, they stopped talking for a bit, allowing the silence to take hold for a minute or two.

Around them, the café had its usual dinner crowd. A few couples leaned in romantically towards each other, their eyes reflecting the candlelight that lay between them as they whispered sweet nothings to each other. Vash ignored them, choosing this moment instead to study his companion.

Millie Thompson had always been an oddly pretty figure, rather tallish for his tastes, but pretty nonetheless. And yet, somehow the years had strengthened that into a more mature beauty, one that had wiped the last vestiges of childhood from her features. Her nickname of 'Big Girl' was now an official misnomer, as the 'girl' portion no longer applied. In the place of the bouncy, cute, and naïve girl he had known during his days as an outlaw, there was now an older, wiser, and slightly more jaded person. In some ways, the girl he had known five years ago and in many other ways, completely different. Not that he could talk. He certainly didn't think he resembled anything from five years ago, let alone three years ago.

Shaking loose these thoughts, he decided it couldn't be avoided for any longer. Sighing, he asked her what had been weighing on his mind all evening. "So, what brings you here?"

She finished her beer, setting the bottle down carefully on the table, her vaguely red face the only sign that she'd been drinking. "Well…." She stared at the table, seemingly embarrassed.

"Well? C'mon, spill. It's no secret that you're here for me. Now just tell me what and why." She continued to stare at the table until he tapped her on the shoulder. Flinching slightly, she finally met his eyes directly.

"M—Vash, I don't want to get involved in the situation between you and Miss Meryl…"

"Miss?" Vash asked curtly, losing his humor instantly.

"Sorry, habit, I guess." She took a deep breath and continued on in a rush. "I don't know why you took off all of a sudden and left Meryl and him together. They don't tell me anything. Sometimes I wonder if she can…. But it seems right. Only I know it's wrong… It's got to be wrong, it just has to be." Noticing his deepening frown, she threw up her hands in frustration. "I'm sorry, I'm babbling."

"Why are you here?" his voice was dead. The deadness inside had returned as well. A cold well within his heart had re-opened. Were these words meant to be said by anyone who was not directly involved? Were they allowed to be said by anyone other than him?

"M-Meryl sent me here." Millie stammered, staring at her bottle once more. She flexed her hands a few times before continuing. "She--she wants you to come back." Stopping in a rush, she looked up at him expectantly, her blue eyes seeming to glow in the half-light.

She wanted him back?

This couldn't be….

What was going on?

This was what he'd been wanting, for five years…. Why was it being dropped in his lap on the third year after he'd discovered what he needed most out of life, and what was never meant to be given away? Why now?

"She—she told you this?"

Seeing the look in his eyes, Millie's eyes began to fill with tears. "No… Mr. Vash…she wants you to come back b-because—" Shoulders shaking, she began to cry softly, tracks of tears running lines of mud and dust down her face.

"Because?" His heart sunk. He'd known she didn't want him back, but having it verified hurt anyway.

"Because Knives has gone missing, and she wants you to find him."

*****

**Author's Note:** And by one a day update I mean, once every sleep cycle. God, I'm sooo ready for a break. Notes about this chapter: Yeah, I laid it on a little thick this time, but unfortunately, that was cuz I didn't have anybody for Vash to interact with, and that tends to make things muchly introspective… which, in my experience, is a dark, dark affair. Toodles, all.

**Next Chap:** A Journey to the Scene of the Crime


	3. Warm Beer and Cold Nights

**Story:** Eye of the Needle   
**Chapter 3:** Warm Liquor and Cold Nights  
  
**Author:** trickygrin  
  
Disclaimer: Blah blah blah. Don't sue. All ideas spawned off of a need to get the ideas to fit the story displayed thus far.  
  
----  
  
It probably would have been better simply to wait a week in preparation, although Vash was not sure what he would have done to prepare himself for this journey. His heart, ever since hearing the news that Meryl was waiting for him, had been racing nonstop, beating ever faster within his chest until at times he felt as if he would explode.  
  
If Millie noticed the faint flush of his face or the tremor in his hands as they traveled, she was too polite to mention it, and he for his part tried to ignore that it was even present, let alone a deciding factor in his travel.  
  
And so it was that they came to be traveling the road to December two weeks after the meeting in that cafe. Their thomases were laden down with supplies, as recent sandstorms had driven out the inhabitants of that area. Thus, they owned what they carried, with no chances of refitting themselves until the town of December itself, where Meryl waited.  
  
He grew both nervous and excited just thinking about it. What was she doing? How was she doing? Did she still think about him?  
  
No... that was stupid. He knew the answer--had CREATED the answer to that question. Chewing on his lip, he slapped his thomas' neck lightly, shaking some of the sand out of its thick coat. Beside him, Millie looked over, her questioning eyes nearly lost behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Overhead one of the suns was flaring, large arcs of flame leaping towards the horizon. He looked away, his fear of retinal damage overtaking the awe of such a sight.  
  
Meryl.... I miss you...  
  
Vash felt like laughing and crying all at once, the absurdity of his situation was that overpowering. Stifling the hyena cackle that was his trademark, much to Meryl's dismay when they were traveling together, Vash half-hiccuped before turning back in his saddle, facing the direction they were going. Face the future... Face the road... But most of all, face the fact that if Millie catches you giggling to yourself again, she's going to think you're insane.  
  
Which, he guessed, he was. Much as he tried to remind himself that the reason he was going to Meryl was for Knives' benefits, it kept slipping into the background until he was only aware of the fact that she had summoned him. SHE had summoned him. She wanted him.  
  
Stifling another grin, he wondered whether his opinion of this whole matter would be the same if Meryl herself had come to get him.  
  
Something told him it would have been vastly different.  
  
Something else inside him screamed at him to let go of his ridiculous expectations.  
  
Something else ignored these warning signs and continued to hum happily, because SHE had summoned him.  
  
------  
  
Trying to wipe the sand from her face, Millie noticed that Vash was laughing to himself again. The man seemed to take every opportunity to turn around and begin laughing. Although she admitted it made him look more boyish, and therefore more like the man she had known before, it chilled her for some reason. Somehow, a dark knot in her stomach led her to believe that his newfound happiness was not at all healthy.  
  
She knew it had to do with Meryl and Knives. Not only was Vash obviously still in love with her, or obsession as was likely, but late at night he'd taken to whispering their names in his sleep.   
  
He was beginning to scare her. He had always seemed slightly unstable when he was hunting his brother, but now it seemed as if the fine line of his sanity was strung so tight that the slightest change thrummed up and down his being, filling him to excess.  
  
The thought of what he might do when he got to Meryl was worrying her. Once he saw that she--that she still wanted to be with Knives, Millie didn't know what his reaction would be. Ordinarily she would have him crying, which was sad but harmless. However, the wild light in his eyes was enough to make her reconsider.  
  
He wasn't the man she had known.  
  
What had happened between him and Meryl? How had Meryl ended up with Knives?   
  
She had to know.  
  
But how to bring it up? That was the question.  
  
------  
  
It was much later, as the fourth moon crested the northern horizon, that they finally settled down outside the village of Howitzer, and got ready for the evening. Vash had finally calmed down from the dizzy maddened state of earlier that day, but he was still faintly buzzing with an unnerving energy. It was this energy that he put to use, quickly setting up a lean-to in the twilight haze, and then using a few matches to light the portable stove they were carrying. Millie, meanwhile, spent her time struggling to unload the heavily packed thomases.  
  
I wonder how many of these buckles are actually necessary, she glared at a particularly stubborn buckle. She grunted again, trying once more to loosen the sand-crusted metal bit.  
  
Here, let me try. Vash came up from behind her, the meal already set to cooking in the pot on the stove. I have experience with these things. He grinned loosely, which made him look decades younger. Millie blinked at him. When she thought about his smile, it almost seemed worth it, to take him to Meryl. She couldn't imagine how long it'd been since he'd last been so happy. If happy was the right word for it.  
  
Sighing slightly, she stepped to the side, allowing him the chance to fiddle with the obnoxious buckle.  
  
One click. _Snap_. Suddenly the saddle fell to the ground, with her scrabbling after it. She failed, and it ended up a tangle of legs and leather on the sandy desert floor, with Vash looking very surprised.  
  
He rubbed the back of his head slightly and shook his head at her. I guess I haven't lost my touch.  
  
Millie grunted, shoving the saddle off of her stomach and onto a relatively bare stretch of ground. Glaring at him, she pouted slightly, You did that on purpose.  
  
Vash was startled... Millie was pouting? What? But after a moment her face split into a wide grin, and she opened one of the saddlebags to reveal an amber bottle of who-knew-what, which she drew out slowly. Just kidding. I'm sure that however long you had that--suit thingy, made you very good with buckles. Much better than I could ever hope to be. She smiled at him and he gawked slightly, his previously manic mood forgotten by Millie's seemingly un-Millie-like jokes.  
  
Wanna split this? We're going to get into town tomorrow night, and I think that Meryl won't let any drinking happen... if she's still the same way I remember her. Her smile, if possible, widened even more, highly reminiscent of Millie before Wolfwood--before...  
  
He bit back that memory. Life was painful enough without bringing the past back into it. He smiled faintly. Whatever had been holding him back at first, and then pushing him forward secondly had disappeared, and he could feel the tired muscles stretching into something much more natural.  
  
For a moment, it didn't matter where he was going or what he was going to do when he got there. He was in the moment, here with Millie, and he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. he finished his thoughts, which had trailed into silence as she watched. I think that a few drinks will do both of us some good.  
  
-----  
  
Much later, as both of them sat around the stove warming their hands over the dying flames of the gas-powered fire while enjoying the pleasant warmth in the pits of their stomachs, Millie reviewed over the evening. All in all, it had been rather nice, with both of them giggling over Vash's various light adventures over the years--she had rather enjoyed the story of him being chased for 5 iles by a wild thomas that he'd been feeding candy--and talking about the various subjects that interested them. To her surprise, she had found him extraordinarily knowledgable about the stars and the stories behind them. He told her of the constellations as viewed from their home planet, and how they had hearkened back to the first beginnings of civilization. Starting with a few pointer stars, he had shown her a few obscure constellations, telling how they had come to be. Round and round the sky they went, circling the moons and laughing at the absurdity surrounding the stories being told. He had finished off his lesson' with the two most famous stories, as he pointed out the Gunslinger with his silver gun, who always was chasing the Maiden of the Desert with her winking tresses of pure starlight.  
  
They have been chasing each other since before we even arrived here, he ended solemnly, And they will continue to chase each other long after we are gone.  
  
she hiccuped slightly and covered her mouth, embarrassed. But what if he decides she's not worth it? She turned her head to the side and watched him as he stared unblinkingly at the stars. What if?  
  
There was a long pause, and for a moment she thought she had offended him. Why had she asked that question?   
  
Oh, she's worth it. He sighed slowly, then turned his eyes towards her, But the question is, is he? This said, Vash sat up slowly and stared at the horizon, towards December. The more I think about it, the more I think that the reason he cannot reach her is because he was never meant to.  
  
There was another awkward pause in which she attempted to sit up, and failed.   
  
He silenced her with a hand wave. Don't worry. I'm trying not to. I think... I think I'll just... Another pause. ...just go to bed. I think I'm tired.  
  
  
  
This time he turned towards her, and the look he gave her was so sad that she almost broke in two just meeting his eyes.   
  
Millie almost asked, then paused. It wasn't her right to ask. It wasn't her right or her manner to press someone into speaking of something that they'd rather not, but in this case, she almost felt as if not knowing what she was walking into could be potentially explosive. And looking at his face right now wasn't helping. She sighed and made up her mind.  
  
She had to ask. She had to know if she was to help either of her friends. Knives wasn't a friend, but he was Meryl's and Vash's friend....although that was debatable right now.  
  
she wasn't sure she could finish this question. Wh-what happened...between you and Meryl? The rest of the question came out in a rush, a torrent of words that after she had said them, she instantly wished she could call them back. She didn't want to know, didn't want to hurt him, didn't want...  
  
Surprisingly, his expression didn't change. There was a faint slackness around his jaw, one that extended to his eyes. But he didn't speak at first. Instead he simply met her eyes face on.  
  
After a few minutes, he finally spoke. Do you really want to know? His voice was raw with emotion and he punctuated the question with a half bark of a laugh. Not waiting for her answer, or perhaps feeling that she did indeed have a right to know, he continued on. After a few seconds of speaking, it seemed obvious that he had needed someone to listen to his story and that this might do him some good. It was with this realization that she moved closer, sitting forward with her arms curled around her knees, and listened.  
  
It really is quite simple, he began, It all started when I came back with Knives.  
  
------  
  
_I had come back to town where you two were, and Knives was still unconscious. I could feel his thoughts bubbling forth from his dreams, they were extremely powerful even when he was not controlling them. Or perhaps it was because he wasn't channelling them that it was so powerful. I don't know. He never said.  
  
I had not had experiencing protecting my mind. Plenty of experience protecting my body from bullets and battle, but none of my training was dedicated towards my extra' skills. Knives had extended his training towards both aspects of his fighting, and thus was dangerous even asleep. But he didn't seem to be directing his dreams towards humans, as I would have initially expected. Instead he was channelling his powers towards the town's plant and myself. These dreams, highly subversive in nature, were incredibly--seductive in their displays of power and destruction.  
  
They called for me to kill the humans.  
  
And I couldn't protect myself. The plant angel had no need of protecting herself, as she could simply hibernate until he left town. She was not worried about her own part in this, but she worried about me. Giving me a few rudimentary bits of advice, she told me to leave the area until Knives was conscious. Or, as she put it--until our brother could keep his dream-walking within his own sphere once more.  
  
I had to. I knew it, but I didn't like it.  
  
So it was that right after you left town to tell your parents that you were alright and to check up on Nicholas' orphanage, I left town to escape Knives. Meryl assured me that although the task of caring for Knives was distasteful, it was one that she would do willingly as a favor to me. And although I hated the thought of being separated from her after all of the troubles we'd been through, I left her with him because I knew she was the only person on this planet who would have any reason whatsoever to do it. And she would do it willingly and well too. I trusted her.  
  
I traveled the globe for a few months, staying within a range that I could reach town within a day or two by some mode of transport or another if I felt him awaken. Day after day I waited, and he didn't change. Week after week I traveled, and still he dreamed. Eventually I felt myself slipping into the person I had been before I met you two. I grew a little bitter, bitter that Knives was interfering with my life even after I had finished dealing with him. Every time I felt the bitterness come on, I turned to Rem's philosophy to remove it. I had saved Knives, hadn't I? She would be proud.  
  
That kept me going for the first month or so. But he was still not awake, and eventually I started to grow bitter towards Rem for giving me such a useless philosophy that had worked to ruin me at every major turn in my life. It seems that after a century of waiting for love, I had grown impatient once I knew it was waiting for me.  
  
Something within me began to change for the worse. At month two I had allowed my nerves to degrade to the point where negligence on my part had a small caravan of people killed. At month four I was a walking wreck, always traveling, barely eating.  
  
By month seven, I had almost washed my hands of Rem entirely. I was surviving from moment to moment, living in the desert lands outside of town. My life consisted of simply working just enough to buy food and in the remaining time dreaming of Meryl and constantly searching for a sign that he had awakened.   
  
Still his dreams wandered. But they seemed of a different flavor than they had been months before. They were more peaceful, and were largely memories of life on the ship. Violent pulses were very few and far between, but my fear of what I knew he could make me do kept me from town, no matter how much I wished to be there. With her. With Meryl.  
  
By now I was beginning to hate my brother for not awakening. It was irrational, but in the end, it was all I could do, as helpless as I was. She was the only thing I had, and once more, he had taken everything from me. And this time, he hadn't even really worked for it. All he had to do was simply not regain consciousness.  
  
It all seemed like an evil plot to me.  
  
About nine months after walking out of town to wait, I felt his thoughts contract to a pinpoint within the city limits. A sandstorm was raging outside and had been for about four days now, but it didn't matter to me. He was awake again and his thoughts were once more shielded.  
  
I raced back into town, my heart racing ahead of me on the dusty trail. I was so happy and in love that the nine months seemed to have made my love all the sweeter. I almost was able to forget that they had occurred, although my physcal condition was obvious at a glance. I couldn't wait to scoop her up in my arms and kiss her and whisper my love to her....  
  
When I got back into town, I found that the situation had changed. Knives had been awake for seven months, but he didn't remember anything from before. He knew me on sight, there is certain knowledge that cannot be erased, but all else was gone. He had no memories of the betrayals that had formed his hatred of humans. He did not remember his various quests to rid the planet of them. He did not remember the pains he had caused me, nor did he remember the Gung-ho Guns.  
  
It was exactly like I had been after July.  
  
And Meryl? Meryl....had spent seven months wondering where I was. Wondering if I was going to return. Wondering if I had forgotten my promises, or died... or something. Anything to explain where I was and what I had done, anything that told explicitly why I wasn't there with her.  
  
After a point she had given up on me. One can only die a certain amount of times before one stays dead. I had reached my quota by month four.   
  
She buried me in the city graveyard, and even by the point I reached town, she still visited once a week to put flowers by my grave.  
  
In the meantime, she was left with Knives, a burden that suddenly was much more aggravating than it had been previously. She hated and feared him. Her loathing towards him was equal to to pain he had caused to her people and to myself. She hated him for so many reasons, it was almost impossible to number them.  
  
But she had promised to care for him. For me.  
  
She suffered through it for a few months. She snapped at him when he asked her what had happened, and how he had come to be with her. She screamed at him when he claimed amnesia. She cried when he tried to comfort her, which was how all of their interactions ended.  
  
One day she woke up with a question on her mind. Why did she hate him so? He was a decent person, one who tried endlessly to please her, but was unable to because of her first impressions of him. Because she had not looked twice at him.  
  
She had made that mistake with someone else too. And once she had given him a second look, she had been startled to discover that she was in love.  
  
With endless apologies to everyone who had suffered, me especially, she gave Knives a second chance.  
  
Now, you must realize that my brother is quite charming usually. He always had a way with people. He was never false with them, never gave them hope where it wasn't warranted, as that wasn't his style. He simply was able to make them love him without even trying. Thus he was able to charm her quite easily, and it was off of this that they based their working relationship. She worked during the day and he took care of domestic chores while he healed.  
  
But he wasn't able to go much further with her than simply friendship. It was this that fascinated him, this steel that defined Meryl. She was not, and never would be, one of his followers. She was...different.  
  
He found himself drawn to her like no one else he could imagine. She....completed him, I guess. Completed him as she completed me. We were twins, I guess it wasn't too terribly absurd for us to be attracted to the same type of woman.  
  
She, for her part, might have fallen for him willingly had it not been for her past. He had done too much to simply be forgiven within a simple few month's time. She liked him, but her memories haunted her.  
  
Meanwhile, he was relearning his powers from the plant angel, who had re-emerged from hibernation after he had awakened. She taught him everything from how to heal himself to how to speak to the angels. Finally, she began to teach him how to shield his thoughts. All the while she assured him that it was the pride of the plants to shelter the humans from the harsh reality of the planet.  
  
Meryl was finding Knives to be much like I had been in my most idealistic of days. Much like I had been, only more... mature. This maturity attracted her. It was what had been holding her back from opening up to me.  
  
And then, I came back into town. I came into a web far more complicated than I had left, and found that I had little to no place within it.  
  
_--------  
  
And then...then....she fell for him just as he fell for her. There was nothing I could do about it. It was just about over by the time I reached town. Vash's voice was quiet as he finished his tale.  
  
Millie didn't know what to say. Everything he had said up until his rather abrupt ending had sounded true, had rung true. The last part was true as well, she felt, but it felt as if he was leaving out everything. Which he had to be, if she thought about it. Unfortunately her mind was tired, and she couldn't focus on where he might be lying, if anywhere, and she felt that she had more than pushed him to his limits, and asking any more of him was unfair.  
  
Vash looked at her and she gazed back, her head nodding slightly as she swayed. She still hadn't worked off the alcohol they had drunk, and it showed slightly in the way the night zephyrs affected her.  
  
Are you happy knowing the truth now? Does it make you glad to know exactly what went wrong back then? He stared at her challengingly, also swaying slightly against a spangled background of stars and moons. She tried to focus on his question, rather than the entertaining notion that the angel opposite her had about as low an alcohol tolerance as she did. Despite her best efforts, a small smile crept through, which he noticed.   
  
What's so funny? he growled slightly, his face wreathed in shadows.  
  
Millie paused for a moment before answering. she stated simply. You know something? A small hiccup broke her swing, and she tried to recover momentum, That wasn't the truth and you know it. A deep breath and then her finale. Don't start yelling at me unless you yourself are willing to open up and be honest for once.  
  
With this out, her momentum was lost and she suddenly felt the weight of the hours and miles she had been up for. This, combined with the alcohol warming her belly made her too tired to continue. Giving him one final look over, she flopped back on the cold ground and was asleep before her head hit her sleeping roll.  
  
Vash continued to look at her, his eyes unreadable in the pre-dawn gloom. You're right, he finally whispered, but only her soft snores broke the silence. Looking away, he wiped away a few stray tears before laughing softly to himself. But then, that's you're trademark isn't it? You're always scarily on target. Even more so than you know. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Millie shiver in her sleep.  
  
Carefully, he wrapped his blanket over her, tucking in the edges under her, a scant protection against the desert insects and animals that might take shelter beneath the warmth of her body. She sighed once and curled up around the folds of the blanket, her breath a soft breeze against his cheek as he tucked it under her shoulder.  
  
He stopped moving, enjoying briefly the almost-intimate contact, before becoming embarrassed with himself. What was he doing?  
  
he muttered, mostly to himself. Standing up, he pulled his coat on and put out the fire on the stove. Then, he curled up in his sleeping roll, his eyes fixed on the horizon. On December.  
  
Something in him was changing, and something in him had never changed. This he knew.  
  
He also knew that if he didn't want to ruin himself forever, he would have to think about what tomorrow would bring.  
  
Vash the Stampede would not be getting any sleep tonight.  
  
Behind him, Millie Thompson stirred slightly in her sleep, her brow furrowed with worry. Within her dreams a red-clad individual crept, stalking her every thought until she could think no more. With a start, her eyes snapped open, upon the back of her traveling companion. _Vash?_ Her mind foggily reminded her of what she had learned. _Vash..._ He seemed to be sleeping.  
  
What could be done about him? Tomorrow would be difficult enough, but with the information of what she actually knew versus what she had not been informed of, it would be ten times more so. She hugged herself, shivering despite the fact that she was not cold. So many problems, so little time to try to solve them. Hopefully his talking had lightened his heart...  
  
Despite her obvious weariness, she could not sleep. Fear kept her awake, fear for her friends, fear for herself...   
  
What was happening to her? She'd never thought about fear so much before....  
  
Something inside her was changing....  
  
Millie Thompson watched Vash and the sky, thinking as she lay. She, also, would not be getting any sleep tonight.  
  
Overhead, the moons danced towards dawn.  
  
-------  
  
**Author's note: **Yeah well, and by once every sleep cycle I actually meant, whenever I sneak to my dad's comp (since I'm at home now) and write one when he's not watching. Heh heh heh...uh... yeah. Thanks for the support my peoples, and hope it's paying off. (If not, well then, um...stop reading.) I have my issues with this chapter, but I've discovered that I have issues with every chapter, so I don't think I'll spill these ones on you, my delightful readers. Suffice to say that I'm don't think my flashback was up to par, but it was either that or miss the Korean cartoon my dad was watching (I wrote the rest of this during a viewing of Thundercats). Yeah, well. So that's that.  
  
**Next Chapter:** They get to down and Meryl enters the picture. Wonder what she thinks?


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